I Want Your Blood!
I Want Your Blood! War wandered through Arkrest like a salesman, lazy and confident. With slowness and certainty it came knocking on doors, offering new deals and inflated promises. “2 gold every month for your first three months!” “We’ll double what you make if you see combat that month!” “Bounties on every Gildorean tongue!” Near the Docks, the Lower Quarter, the Break, Arkrest's destitute heard the fantastical heat-swollen promises that came from the frothing mouth of War and said “What a fucking deal!” And so both woman and man began to wander off to find their fortune. The reality was much more grim. The reaper had stowed away in the fine print of the contracts they signed; it swindled them with acutely defined jargon, and it whopped the illiterate masses on the head with the same apologetic sincerity that had first bound them to the Guild-owned debt that many sought so hard to free themselves from. And from high above, the Guildmasters and bankers who owned the debt on the unfortunate citizens laughed and traded slaves with the war machine. But they were not the only ones to profit, for from low below another perspective was gleaned. The craven who had not the stomach for war looked around the streets, and in each house they saw a chest to be broken into, with the men and women who once guarded them sent off to fight the glorious fight. It was thus that business boomed for the Vix Agarra. Not only were funeral services necessary at all time highs, but they could offer protection to those who could afford it. Botard had quietly ordered every man of rank Blade and above to resist joining the Larkenvale cause and magnanimously said “if you’re struggling financially, just talk to me personally. We would never let one of our own suffer.” So far he had paid out a total of five gold coins and seven silver pieces to needy men and women, and had reaped hundreds of golen tokens in the past four months from offering their protection services. After counting for the low base salary that the low ranking Blades made (Hey, after all, all they need to do is stand around and look intimidating) He had turned a profit of over a hundred gold on the whole operation. So Botard was in a good mood when Telos, his bartender casually said “So did you hear that the Arnish Marshals dropped the ball on hanging Stormcrow? Fucking idiots. He practically walked out of their hands from what I heard.” And because of who Botard was, he retained his good mood and only said “Well, I guess we’re gonna have to kill all of Arn now.” He smiled and took a deep drink. ***************************************************************************** “But Shamus, it’s just not profitable. It doesn’t make sense.” Fleischwolf sighed and put his head in his hands. “The seas are awful right now, and there’s no point in fighting a battle in a city so far from our base. Arkrest just isn’t worth it.” Shamus Stormcrow sat sharpening his new sword, leaning back in a wooden chair with his feet upon his desk. He cradled it almost like a child. The handle was gilt in Gildorian silver, with several bloodstones set into the pommel, and the blade was crafted from number seven blue Oden steel by Braushish Gramdom and cost more than most men would see in their lifetimes. “No, no, nope. I told you Fleisch, this is happening.” He didn’t look up from his blade. “Honestly, we should probably cut our losses and maybe even try to get on the Vix’s good side. Since they’ve forged ties with Vovk and he’s a member of the Pirate Coalition they’ll be probably be assisting the slaves in the rebellion. We might even fight side by side.” At this, Shamus stopped. He looked up at Fleischwolf with the flames of the Goth burning in his eyes. “You would have us beg? Concede? Is that it, Fleisch?” “I’m not saying we beg, just that we consider all our options. It would be way more profitable to just keep selling weapons here in Arn.” He paused and thought, tilting back his head. “Plus, there’s certainly glory to be had in rebellion.” He had promised Kuma that he would try hard to push Shamus in this path. The rebellion meant the world to the man, and Fleisch could only solemnly agree. They both knew what agony slavery could be, that it was a fate that no man deserved. “Slaves be fucking damned!” Shamus stood and slammed the pommel of his sword upon the desk. “Do you know how I got to lead the Skulls, Fleisch? I know you’re a bit of a newer face. Hmmm? Do you?” “Ummmm no, sir.” “It was fucking savagery. It was a nonstop bloodbath. If I heard someone make a joke about me to their grandmother, I’d send them her head in a fucking box. I know it’s not profitable to fight in Arkrest. But I don’t fucking care. Our reputation is worth more gold than you’ll ever see in your entire life, it’s our legacy.” He spat the word. Slaves be damned? You’d have us all just die to save your pride? If that’s how it’s going to be, Shamus… Fleischwolf closed his eyes and Shamus continued to rave. “The Vix Agarra have insulted our honor. You’re a smart fucking guy, Fleisch. You have a lot of talents. But you don’t understand the power of fear, the power of a reputation. One broke bastard with a case of the pox can ransom an entire city if he plays his cards right. Why? Because the city is fucking terrified of him. We’ve gotta be that man, because the moment we stop, our enemies will rip us to shreds like wolves. That’s how our goddamned world works.” Fleischwolf sighed and hefted his hammer upon his shoulders. The weight of the great weapon comforted him. “Fine, Shamus. You win. But this is all pointless unless we actually do some real damage. In theory we still have a decent amount of contacts in Arkrest, but I haven’t heard much from them since they hung Barkath high in the square last year. We definitely need more muscle, and with the Coalition dominating the Sea of Embers I don’t see how we’re going to accomplish that.” Shamus slapped Fleischwolf on the back and cackled. “That’s the sort of thinking you should be doing! There’s no question that we have to make the Vix suffer. It’s just a question of how. Well, let me tell you, they aren’t the only ones who have friends among the pirates.” There was an evil gleam in his eyes as he spoke. “So leave that to me. Now next, we need to make a point more than anything. So we don’t even need to win a head to head fight. But if we can touch that greasy sack of shit Botard? Oh that’ll do it. It’s his blood I want the most.” He paused in thought for a moment, before smiling ear to ear once more. “Vovk will come next, but first I want to see Botard bleed.” **************************************************** Engrad was in agony. Ever since his face had been painted onto a poster visible in every tavern in Larkenvale as a wanted criminal, Botard had kept him deep in the underground chambers of the bayside Church. His few forays outside were typically under cover of night, wearing a thick black cloak with the hood low on his face to serve as a bodyguard or bogeyman. He hadn’t felt the sun shining on his skin in weeks. He had tried to spend all his free time training the Blades to be better fighters, but his temper and frustration had mounted to the point where he could no longer tolerate their pathetic weaknesses. And so he sat, as he did now, for hours every day and read. Religious texts, myths and legends, and his favorite, history. He was still in agony, but the time he spent reading was like time spent far away from his own body. Almost like being dead, dreaming in the afterlife…''he mused as he turned a page. If this text was to be believed, Llyod Whitefang had once turned back an enemy army just by sitting on the walls playing the flute. He had less than fifty of his men inside the city, but seeing him so confident and sure the enemy turned and fled before even attempting the siege of the city. ''Not a very honorable victory. '' He looked up from his book to see the elf, Ithuriel, re-lighting a candle. “Have you gotten to the siege of Commonbreath yet?” The Elf spoke with condescending anticipation. “Yes.” Engrad set his trap. Ithuriel smiled “And it’s pretty impressive what can be done if you use your wits rather than your brawn, isn’t it?” Trap sprung! Foolish elf. “Hah! But it is said that Lloyd once fought ten men and won. If his soldiers were as strong as him, they could have simply slaughtered their enemies there and then and won a place of honor and glory in history. Instead they hid like cowards.” Ithuriel began to protest, but Engrad cut her, or him (he had not bothered to learn the elf’s gender and did not care.) off. “Silence! Two hundred pushups by nightfall.” The elf groaned. “There’s no point!” Engrad growled “There’s no point in anything other than killing, start them NOW!” He had kept the elf around because he did not feel guilty yelling at it when he grew angry and disappointed with its weakness. It was too annoying. Also, it recommended him these books. Engrad was about to return to his reading when a knock came on the door, followed by Botard swinging the large oaken door wide open. “Engrad! How do you feel about slavery?” He looked down at the Elf on the ground and sighed dramatically. “Oh great. We just had those floors cleaned and now you’re getting ''Elf all over them.” Ithuriel grunted a curse, and Engrad cleared his throat. “The only thing I hate more than the men who own other men are the men pathetic enough to be owned.” His bright blue eyes fixed Botard on a point. “That is how I feel about slavery.” The other man grinned “Just what I was hoping to hear! I have a job for you.” Engrad’s heart thundered in his chest “A job? Doing what?” Botard took a seat next to Engrad and moved in close, speaking in a low voice. “You know where there aren’t laws? Where you can just kill whoever you want without consequence? Daggerwood.” The news couldn’t be better. Engrad motioned for Botard to continue. “I want you to pick some men to take, and you and Vovk are going to go there and kill every single thing you fucking see. Go wild. No. Restraint.” Engrad closed his fist around the hilt of his dagger until his knuckles grew white. “The Skulls.” “Yes. The Marshals let Shamus Escape, so I want you to kill him, and anyone else you come across. Be careful though, I’ve heard rumors that the woods are full of dangerous beasts. And when you’re done, you’ll take orders from Vovk. The Pirate Coalition has decided to assist the slaves in the rebellion, but he doesn’t quite agree with the stance they’ve taken and we owe him a debt.” Engrad’s mind went back to his early days in the country of Lancerus, sailing and fighting alongside Vovk. He thought then of Soa. Of home. “I’ll grow the woods twice as high on the Skulls’ blood, Botard. I’ll kill every beast too. ‘''We do not suffer the presence of those wicked monsters created to serve to Goth'''. I’m going to break their bones. I’m going to feel the snap between my fucking hands. I’m going to drink their blood, it will feel hot smeared across my face, and when Cataclysm crashes through their skulls, I’ll know peace.” “It heartens me to hear that you won’t hold back; Unquala will shed no tears for the death of a Skull.”